


Shelter You

by Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)



Series: Heart Day 2020 Prompts [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Dark Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23442043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Series: Heart Day 2020 Prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686376
Kudos: 65





	Shelter You

You were pacing back and forth in front of your hearth, anxiously waiting for Geralt’s return. He should’ve been back by now, it was nearly dawn and you were a wreck. What if the werewolf had gotten the better of him? What if he was out in the forest, alone and bleeding out because he’d made you swear to stay here where it was safe? What if–

You jolted when you heard the door slam open, followed by a muffled “fuck”.

“Geralt?” you called, moving to head towards the front door.

“Stay where you are, Y/N,” his bassy voice growled. You paused, head cocked. He sounded …. different, his voice guttural and even more rough than usual.

“Are you hurt?” you asked hesitantly, taking another step despite his command.

“I said to stay where you are,” he said sharply. Something like desperation was in his tone and that was the final straw for you.

“I need to see that you’re okay,” you insisted. You went to the entryway, gasping when you saw him. He stood with his back to you, rigid as steel. His hair was ragged and his shirt was shredded, covered in blood that stained his clothes and dripped sluggishly from the claw marks torn into his flesh. “Oh gods, Geralt–”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his shoulders hunching slightly.

“You are not fine, come here.” You approached him and he whirled on you, eyes black as night and skin chalky, pale as a wraith.

“Stay away,” he growled, lips twisted back from his teeth in a snarl.

“I won’t,” you snapped right back, marching up to him. He flinched when you grabbed onto him, tried to jerk away. He was icy to the touch, and he strained away from you, recoiling. “Geralt, stop being an idiot–”

“It’s not safe,” he insisted, glaring at you. He held your shoulders, keeping you at arm’s length. “I need you to….step back. Away from me,” he said slowly, teeth clenched so hard a muscle in his jaw ticced.

“Not when you need me,” you insisted. He was being stubborn, but you could do that too. You knew of one surefire way to get him to listen to you, to show you that this wasn’t going to scare you away or keep you from him no matter what he said or looked like.

You suddenly went boneless, limp in his arms and he automatically went to grip you tighter, pulled you closer to support your dead weight. You took advantage of his fumble to slip free of his hold and step closer, pressing right against him and rising up onto your toes to press your lips to his.

Geralt froze, his hands on your waist but he was no longer pushing you away. You curled your fingers into his hair, slid your other hand around his waist as you kissed him. He was still frozen, but his cool lips were pliant, yielding to the soft movement of your mouth. His hands on your waist were suddenly painfully tight, clutching you desperately close.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Stop being stupid,” you whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

“Y/N,” he breathed your name shakily. His throat moved convulsively as he swallowed hard, slowly easing his hold on you. You hushed him with another kiss.

“Let’s get you patched up. It’s time for rest.” You slid your hand down his arm, laced your fingers through his and tugged gently as you stepped back. He reluctantly followed you, head tilting quizzically as you led him deeper into your home.

“You don’t….fear me? Like this?” he asked quietly. You sat him in a chair by the hearth, gathered a washcloth and a bowl of water and some bandages.

“I could never be afraid of you,” you told him quietly. You helped him out of his shirt, sat by his side and began to clean his wounds. He turned his face away from you, and you noticed the minute trembles going through him. He jerked when you touched his arm. “Geralt?”

Geralt stayed silent, shook his head. What he was protesting, you weren’t sure, but it made your chest ache. You pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, heard his quiet exhale. You smiled against his skin when he relaxed a fraction, gently cleaning a bit of blood off the back of his shoulder.

He spoke so quietly you had to strain to hear him over the crackling of the fire. “I don’t want you to see me at my worst.”

You hummed, brushed his hair away from his neck to kiss the curve of muscle lightly. A shiver went through him as your breath fanned over his skin. “You don’t have to hide from me. And this isn’t your worst – this is you, vulnerable, and needing care. Being…human.” You nuzzled him and he sighed through his nose.

“I’m not–I can’t ever be–” He muttered, shifting restlessly.

You shushed him. “I know what you are.” He went tense and you continued: “You’re a witcher. A protector. A lover. A good man who thinks he is a monster, because of lies fed to him by others.” He finally turned to look at you, and you met his obsidian gaze unflinchingly. You touched his cheek and his eyes fell shut. “You’re all of that, and so much more. And I love every part of you, even the parts you might be ashamed of.”

“I don’t deserve you, dove,” he murmured, voice brusque in the way it usually got when he was feeling particularly intense emotions and trying to suppress them.

“I disagree, but regardless, you have me anyways.” You kissed him on the cheek and his hand curled around your knee, squeezed lightly. You smiled, serene silence falling between the two of you as you went back to tending to his wounds.


End file.
